


A New Scale

by eternalsojourn



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, MMA, Masturbation, coming quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:17:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7355071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalsojourn/pseuds/eternalsojourn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur revises his personal horniness scale. Because Eames.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Scale

Arthur’s sex drive is pretty average overall. He cycles higher and lower, depending on a lot of factors, but he’s never found himself so horny he couldn’t take care of the matter himself. At least enough to take the edge off.

That was before the Levesque job.

As extractions go, it hits the sweet spot of interesting enough to be a bit of a challenge, but low-risk enough to fit nicely in Arthur’s comfort zone. They’d been hired to get inside the head of the coach of a rising-star MMA fighter to find out whether he’d been colluding to fix fights. Arthur doesn’t care much either way, but it’s a nice change from the corporate CEOs and financiers they usually extract from.

But to get inside enough to gain access to him for the extraction, they have to do a little more legwork. So they send in Eames.

Arthur had no idea Eames had a fighting background. The plan had been to get Eames into the gym where the star did his training. Initially they’d planned to just get the mark used to their presence, but Eames’s skill surprised everyone and their plan was quickly revised when the coach approached Eames to spar with his boy.

So for two and a half weeks, Arthur’s been at the sidelines posing as Eames’s supporting spectator. The first time Eames stormed into the ring and dropped his opponent with one hard punch to the ribcage, then wrestled him to the ground and held him there, Arthur upgraded his sex drive from “average” to “above average”.

By Eames’s fifth sparring session, Arthur invents a new scale to account for exceeding his personal maximum. He places his state at 83% of this new theoretical maximum. Watching Eames wrap himself completely around his opponent from the bottom (he’d obviously allowed himself to get pinned for the purpose), and choke him out from there, has Arthur excusing himself immediately to frantically jerk himself in the bathroom.

By Eames’s 14th sparring session at two and a half weeks, he’s abandoned the count and has instead started tracking the number of times he has to relieve himself a day. It’s embarrassing and as a kind of self-punishment he keeps vigilant track of that number. For the record, that number was 4 yesterday, Thursday. He’s had to stock up on lube just to avoid chafing. 

And now it’s Friday, which opens with Eames skipping (fast! Jesus.), pumping iron, and then jumping in the ring. Arthur’s thinking of excusing himself already and skipping the show just to save himself, but a sparring partner comes out and Arthur delays. After a bit of circling each other, Eames does a leg sweep, which takes his opponent by surprise and down they go. In a few seconds, Eames has his opponent’s head between this thighs and is squeezing and Arthur stands and fucks off to the bathroom because Holy Mary he might die of being this turned on.

Only someone’s in his usual bathroom (the private one) and Arthur doesn’t super relish the thought of sporting this damned hardon because pretty soon he’s going to have to go talk to the coach, as scheduled. So he goes to the change room because it’s early and Eames and his opponent are the only fighters in the gym at the moment so he’s probably got plenty of time before anyone needs the change room again.

The room is small, just two shower heads in a semi-enclosed area, a bank of lockers against one wall, and a bench. There’s a urinal along one wall, but Arthur will be damned if he’s jerking it over one of those, so he chooses instead to stand by the shower, just outside it, and lean against the little half-wall with one hand. He doesn’t pull down his pants, just plunges in and starts his thing, a few tissues in the other hand ready to go. 

He’s got his mental picture chosen (those squeezing thighs wrapped around his waist) and settles into a rhythm designed for quick completion. He’s making quiet little noises which he can’t keep from making, but he keeps them to just barely-voiced grunts, which is probably why he doesn’t hear a thing until --

“Bloody hell, that’s a sight. Can I join the party?”

Arthur fumbles frantically to put himself away and hide the tissues in his hand and Eames immediately steps forward.

“Sorry. Sorry, I’ll go. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

But he hasn’t left and Arthur glares at him over his shoulder. “Yes,” he growls. “I mean no. The first one. Get over here,” because Eames did offer.

They’re kissing before Arthur knows they’ve closed any distance, with hungry, gasping, sucking, biting kisses and Eames tugging at Arthur’s clothes. Eames is already sweaty and shirtless from the fight and Arthur can’t stop his hands from finding every muscle, every dip. He swears against Eames’s lips and gasps when Eames grips his cock.

Eames’s touch is less aggressive than Arthur’s, and he moves his hand like he’s getting a feel for the shape and weight of Arthur’s dick. It’s wonderfully exploratory and the way Eames is shamelessly rutting his own erection against Arthur’s hip. Eames kisses like he’s never going to stop, and his other hand shoves down Arthur’s pants and grips his ass in a hard squeeze, pulling Arthur to him. Arthur feels manhandled and wanted and desperate and after a few short blazing, brilliant seconds, he realizes with horror that he’s going to come.

“‘m gonna,” he gets out and then chokes off a huff as his muscles spasm him into a hunch and he pumps big strings of come all over Eames’s stomach and fighting shorts.

“Shit, damnit, sorry that was…” but he doesn’t finish because Eames looking at him with an awestruck, deeply lustful look.

“Jesus, Arthur, that was the hottest fuckin’ thing.”

And Arthur, appreciative of both the handjob and the graciousness with which Eames handled the whole potentially humiliating affair, drops to his knees and folds Eames’s shorts out of the way so he can lick and suck his sentiments directly where they’ll be most appreciated.

“You sweet filthy angel,” says Eames, which makes Arthur’s head swim with a rush of pride and giddiness at the absurdity and marvel of the whole thing, and he levels up his enthusiasm for the blowjob. “Fffffuck,” Eames breathes, and Arthur considers it a bigger compliment that Eames loses his fancy words.

It doesn’t take long, and Arthur knows even without looking that Eames is staring because he can feel it. And despite being a behind-the-scenes kind of guy for work, he appreciates the opportunity to show off his skills once in awhile, so he gives it his all, swirling his tongue, flicking it at Eames’s frenulum, enclosing the crown in his lips, and sinking alllll the way down, flicking his eyes up as he does so.

That’s what does it and Eames’s grip tightens in Arthur’s hair and he comes with a drawn out grunt, sounding more intense than he does in the ring. It gives Arthur a shiver right down his spine and he doesn’t even mind swallowing the load, instead relishing the visceral dirtiness of it all. 

When he stands, Eames softly thunks his forehead against Arthur’s. They heave together for a minute before he says, “We’re supposed to be working,”, a bit breathless.

“Sorry, that was, uh. A bit unprofessional,” Arthur says, though contrition utterly fails to make it into his voice.

“A bit, yeah,” Eames says.

Arthur pauses, then pulls back and starts putting himself away without a word. All right. This was an anomaly. He can brush it off as an incident to be forgotten. Eames, meanwhile, is stripping out of his come-stained shorts and is grabbing another pair from a locker. It should be getting more awkward, but Arthur isn’t quite feeling it. He can muster up explanations later.

Eames pulls on a fresh pair of shorts and says, conversationally, “Let’s go do the thing,” he gestures to the door, “and then go be unprofessional somewhere else?”

Relieved, Arthur laughs softly. “Yeah.” He does up his belt. “Yeah,” he says again, to himself, already figuring he’ll have to revise his personal horniness scale once again.

***


End file.
